


The Thief Returns To The Mountain

by And_Dream_Of_Erebor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Complete, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/And_Dream_Of_Erebor/pseuds/And_Dream_Of_Erebor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before The Battle Of Five Armies, while Erebor is still under siege by Men and Elves, Bilbo secretly returns to the dwarves' stronghold and tries to talk to Thorin once more. The story starts soon after the meeting between Bard's and Dain's messengers, and ends at the moment Thorin and his dwarves join the battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thief Returns To The Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> The story is based partly on Tolkien's book, partly on the movie An Unexpected Journey. The events leading to The Battle Of Five Armies are based on the book; the characterisation and relative age of the dwarves is based on the movie. Other movie facts I included that differ from the book are the Arkenstone having been encased in Thror's throne, and the leader of the goblin army being Azog, not Bolg.
> 
> The quote at the beginning is from The Hobbit, from the chapter The Clouds Burst. It is there to show the exact moment my story deviates from the book. It joins it again when Thorin's dwarves join the battle (hence the rather abrupt ending.)
> 
> The song the dwarves are singing is quoted from The Lord of The Rings - it is the song Gimli sings in Moria.
> 
> The dwarvish saying Thorin quotes at the end is, however, completely made up.

_Bard then sent messengers to the Gate; but they found no gold or payment. Arrows came forth as soon as they were within shot, and they hastened back in dismay._

Someone did manage to reach the Gate, though; and not only to reach it, but also to enter it, unseen. It was the hobbit, whom Bard had left at the camp after they had met Dain's messengers together. At least Bard had thought he had left him at the camp, because that was when he had last seen him.

When Bilbo heard Bard's orders for messengers to see whether Thorin had changed his mind he made a sudden decision: he slipped the ring on his finger and followed the messengers towards the mountain. Before the path narrowed, he carefully slid past them and started running towards the gate, careful not to send any pebbles rolling down the path. He didn't quite understand why he was doing this, but his heart felt heavy; he had tried to prevent bloodshed by surrendering the Arkenstone to Bard, but it seemed now that he had only made things worse. He had no idea, as he was running towards the Gate, what he could possibly do now to make things better, but the dwarves were still his friends - at least twelve of them were - and he had decided on an impulse that he wanted to be with them after all.

He was far ahead of the messengers when the Gate came into full view. He slowed down a little, careful not to make a sound. He looked behind him. Bard's messengers were about twenty steps behind him. Suddenly arrows flew out of the openings on top of the Gate. Bilbo crouched down. He was glad to see that the arrows flew high above the heads of the messengers – they were not sent to shoot them, just to let them know in no uncertain terms that their King didn't want to hear their message.

The messengers turned back and hurried towards Bard's camp, and after a while Bilbo stood up and moved towards the Gate again. His knees were shaking a little.

He stopped before the large pool of water the dwarves had created by widening the river bed in front of the Gate. Very slowly he dipped one of his toes into the water, then the whole left foot. He shuddered because the water was very cold, but the cold didn't worry him that much; he needed to find out – as ridiculous as it may sound – what the water would look like with an invisible foot in it. It looked really strange, he soon found: the rippled surface was broken by a hole that resembled the inside of an oddly shaped glass bowl. Bilbo glanced at the openings on the Gate the arrows had been flying from a moment ago, braced himself and kicked the surface of the water as hard as he could, then quickly crouched down and placed his head between his arms.

It was alright. No arrows came. Even if the dwarf guards had seen the disturbance in the water, they probably didn't understand its significance. Maybe they thought it was a fish – although that was very unlikely indeed, because the water in the river was still dark and dead and smelled like sulphur. There was no reason now for Bilbo not to proceed with his plans.

He entered the cold water – it was up to his knees – tried not to think about how cold it was, and started walking to the arched opening in the Gate from which it was streaming. When he reached the opening, the water was up to his thighs and the flow was quite strong. Bilbo was not a good swimmer and what he was about to do was quite dangerous. But he hardly even stopped to think about it, because going back to the Mountain was dangerous anyway, regardless of the way of entrance. Besides, a battle was about to begin and soon there would be no safe place anywhere. These thoughts couldn't exactly be called encouraging, but they made Bilbo's decision much easier. The arch looked large enough for him: the dwarves had built it only a few days earlier, making it too small for a man, elf or dwarf to crawl through, but they never considered the possibility of a hobbit being the trespasser, since the only hobbit they knew was their friend. Bilbo took a very deep breath and dived under the arch, keeping his eyes open.

What followed was a frantic struggle against the stream, which took only a few moments, but to poor Bilbo it felt like hours and he thought his lungs were going to burst; he spread his arms wide, pressed his hands against the sides of the opening and pushed himself forward with all his might. His head found the surface and he took a very deep breath – very deep and apparently very loud, because he heard a voice asking: "What's that?"

He lay very still in the water, taking care that only his head and neck were above surface, otherwise his outline might be visible. It was dark in the passage – there was a small amount of sunlight coming inside over the wall, and a few torches lit further inside – so Bilbo needed some time for his eyes to adjust. Luckily, it seemed that the dwarf guards had decided they had imagined the sound.

Soon Bilbo was able to make out the shape of his surroundings. In front of him there was the water channel and the stone-paved road beside it, and beside him was the heavy stone Gate, with wooden frames and platforms on the inside which allowed guards to stand behind the openings high on the wall. He could see the guards now; he thought he recognised Kili, Nori and Dori. When he was satisfied that they were all looking outside, Bilbo got up very quietly and carefully and started walking upstream. After a dozen or so steps in the water, he felt safe enough to climb out of the channel and onto the road. He walked on, leaving big wet footprints behind; luckily, the guards couldn't see them from their post, and he hoped they would dry out before anyone else passed by.

After a while a passage opened up to the left of him. Bilbo could see some light and hear voices from the large room at the end. He walked quietly towards it, remembering what it was because he had been there before: it was the former main hall of the underground castle, the great chamber of Thror.

He stepped quietly into the Chamber and leaned against the wall. There were dwarves there, all of them busy, either sharpening the blades of swords and battle axes, or sorting through the treasure piled all around them, to find more weapons. All the other treasure, no matter how precious or beautifully made, they were just casting aside. Bilbo understood how unusual it was for dwarves to neglect objects of silver and gold made with great skill for those weapons, some of which were very crudely made, although formidable. It was a sign that the situation was indeed very serious. He could see Dwalin teaching Ori how to hold a battle axe properly; Fili was sitting at a table – on second thought, it wasn't a table, because there was no furniture in the ruins of the former underground castle, just broken slabs of marble and granite, and Fili was using one of them as a table – sorting and polishing a pile of knives, his face grim and thoughtful; Bombur had a wooden tankard of ale in front of him, but he was ignoring it, which was most unusual indeed. There was very little talking, and when there was, it was hushed and solemn.

A few days ago the Chamber had been a mess, and bones of Smaug's victims had been scattered around it. Since then it had been cleared, and the bones undoubtedly properly buried. There were still some traces of the foul-smelling vapours of the dragon in the air, which made the hobbit feel uneasy, but they were now mostly covered by the much more pleasant-smelling candles and torches the dwarves had lit; their fires reflected off the gold and the jewels scattered all around the hall, creating sparks of reddish-orange light . There was also a fire warmly crackling in a fireplace built into the wall opposite to where Bilbo was standing. He was still wet and shivering with cold, so he longed to be closer to it, but he was afraid he would make a noise if he tried to cross the room.

There were nine dwarves in the Chamber, Bilbo soon established. Everyone was there except for the three who were guarding the gate, and for Thorin.

Without any clear idea what he was going to do, the hobbit slowly crept closer to the cleared part of the hall where his friends were. However softly and carefully he was treading, the golden chains and jewels lying on the floor moved just a little bit with each of his steps; had the dwarves been on the alert for an invisible burglar, they would probably have noticed him, but who would waste their time on thinking of invisible burglars with very visible and real armies camping outside the Gate?

Bilbo moved a step closer to Balin, thinking perhaps that if he decided to reveal his presence, it would be best if the friendly old dwarf was the first one to see him. But this almost brought on disaster, because Fili stood up and approached Balin at the same time; he would have bumped into the hobbit had he not seen him and quickly moved out of the way.

Balin was sitting on a wooden treasure chest, working on an axe with a whetstone.

„Do you know how much time they've been at the Gate, Balin? Do you think it is time for a change of guard?" Fili asked in a quiet voice.

Balin lifted up his eyes from his work and looked kindly at the young dwarf.

„Do you know there used to be a system of hourglasses of different sizes in this very Chamber, embellished with the sun, moon and stars made out of gold and silver, so we could tell the time even when we spent weeks without seeing the sky? They are broken now, but we shall make new ones when this is over." Bilbo noticed that Balin cast his eyes down when saying those last words, as if he didn't quite believe in them. „I can only guess at the time now, but yes, I do think it is time to replace your brother and Nori and Ori. Would you like me to ask him?"

Fili nodded in silence. „My King!" Balin cried out, turning his face upwards. The hobbit turned in the same direction, but could see nothing but blackness at first.

„What is it?" Thorin's voice shouted back from somewhere above them, echoing under the high vaults of the Chamber. There were some lanterns and torches placed high on the walls, but it was almost impossible to see where the voice was coming from.

„Should another three of us take over the Gate now?" Balin asked, There was a moment of silence, then Thorin's voice said:

„Yes, do that. Choose three among you to replace them."

Staring at the direction he thought Thorin's voice was coming from, Bilbo thought he could just make out an outline of someone standing on what looked like a large balcony (at least it looked like one to Bilbo; he had never been in a castle before, otherwise he might have known that a balcony is, when it's on the inside, called a gallery.)

Fili, Dwalin and Gloin volunteered. „If you see any new development, or if a raven brings a message, call me at once," Thorin's voice said. The silhouette moved just a little bit, as if Thorin had just taken a step back, but otherwise remained in the same position, watching them from above.

As the three dwarves walked towards the gate to take over the guard duty, Bilbo quietly moved towards another wall to make sure he was out of their way. Soon Kili, Nori and Dori walked into the hall. Bombur came forward to greet them and offer them some ale.

„No change out there so far," said Nori, and Kili asked almost at the same time: „How is he?"

„No change there either," Balin said quietly. „He responds when spoken to, but otherwise he has just been standing there on the gallery, looking down at the throne."

The throne? Bilbo was confused for a moment, but the dwarves turned their heads as one and looked at a pile of great marble slabs lying in the centre of the Chamber. Following their gaze, he realised that the slabs were decorated with intricate carvings. So that was the broken throne of Thror, Thorin's grandfather and the previous King Under The Mountain!

„Is there anything I can do for him, Balin?" Kili asked in an even quieter voice. „You know him much better than I do, although he is my mother's brother."

Balin shook his head and gently placed his hand on Kili's. „I think the only thing you can do, my boy, is the same that I intend to do: follow him to the end."

The young dwarf nodded, and for a few moments the great hall was in complete silence, during which the hobbit hardly dared to breathe, let alone move. But at least his eyes made no noise as he turned them, so he looked around very carefully. He found that there was a narrow stairway leading upwards along the wall he was leaning against. It looked very crooked. He soon saw why: the original stairway had been carved out of rock, but it had been very badly damaged. It was freshly repaired with wooden beams – the dwarves must have done it very during the past day, since he had been gone. It had to be the way to the gallery where Thorin was standing.

Bilbo waited until the dwarves started talking quietly among themselves, took a deep breath and approached the stairway, starting to climb it very carefully: one step at a time, keeping close to the wall because there was no railing. He stopped with a start when he heard his own name from the chamber below; for the tiniest moment he thought he was discovered.

„I wonder where our Mr Baggins is now," said a voice that sounded like Bofur's. „I do hope he is somewhere safe."

„I dearly hope so," said Balin's voice, „because it is going to get very ugly here, and it isn't his battle to fight. He did his job and ended up with no payment – at least he deserves to be safe."

„Your Mr Baggins is about to try and talk to someone who, when they last spoke, tried to throw him down a wall," Bilbo thought to himself. „So no, I'm afraid he isn't safe! Now that I think of it, talking to someone who wants to kill me is something I've been doing an awful lot of on this adventure. I could almost call it a habit." But the dwarves' concern touched him and he went on with more resolve. Because he had to try to talk to Thorin – he only fully realised it now, but that was what he had returned to do.

He reached the end of the stairs and slowly stepped on to the gallery. It had once been a beautiful place – Bilbo had no way of knowing that, but it had once been a place from which members of the dwarf royal family could watch what went on in Thror's Chamber without being seen – and its vaults were held up by rows of strong stone columns, some of which were still standing, some broken. A few burning torches were placed in sconces on the walls, but most of the gallery was in darkness.

Thorin was standing by the balustrade on the edge of the gallery, clad in the coat of gold-plated rings he had taken from the dragon-hoard. He was half-leaning on one of the stone columns and looking down, still as a statue. The hobbit, moving on the tips of his toes, stood near the edge as well, taking care to stay far enough from Thorin. He peeked down to see what Thorin was looking at.

The remains of the broken throne were lying in the middle of the Chamber. On one of the slabs there was an elaborate carved frame, but in its centre was just a hole carved into the rock, and with a sinking feeling Bilbo realised what it was. He knew it from the dwarves' stories: that was where the Arkenstone used to be encased when Thror ruled the kingdom. The hobbit took a careful, quiet step towards the edge to try and see Thorin's face. But although specks of light were bouncing from the gold-plated coat, the dwarf's face remained in the shadow, cast downwards and obscured by his long, dark hair. His hand was visible though: his fingers were tightened in a fist and very pale.

Bilbo retreated from the edge of the gallery and hid behind one of the still intact stone columns a bit further away from Thorin. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, then opened his mouth to speak. It was only then that he realised that he didn't even know how to begin. How should he address him? Merely calling him „Thorin" as he used to would probably sound disrespectful in the circumstances and anger the dwarf king even more, while „Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror, King Under The Mountain", although certainly the proper thing to say, could easily be understood as mocking. Bilbo decided that „Master Thorin" should be acceptable, but he felt so uneasy that, when he finally opened his mouth, all that came out was a mumble and a confused cough. He was startled by the sound of his own voice because it rang out so strangely in the silent gallery, bouncing off the walls and the vaults and echoing all around him several times before fading.

Thorin turned around sharply. "Who is there?" he asked, his voice sounding more tired than anything else. "Who is there?" the echo repeated from all sides.

"Bil- Bilbo Baggins," the hobbit said feeling a little bolder, because the echo was working to his advantage: it was very difficult to tell where the sound was coming from.

"You!" Thorin cried out, and the echo repeated accusingly: "You! You! You!" The dwarf king's fist tightened around the hilt of a bronze dagger that was tied to his belt, and he stepped away from the edge of the gallery and into the first row of columns, his eyes quickly darting around, searching the shadows. "Did I not say I never wanted to see you again? Why don't you show yourself, you coward?"

"Coward… Coward… Coward…" the echo repeated after him. Thorin walked further into the forest of columns, his dagger now in his hand.

Quiet as a mouse, Bilbo slid away and hid behind another column, one that Thorin had just passed moments ago. He spoke again, his face turned upwards as if speaking to the ceiling because he thought the echo would be stronger that way.

"What is it you want me to do then, if you want me to show myself but don't want to see me?" That was not a wise thing to say, because it made Thorin even more furious.

"Silence!" he shouted and made a wide, sweeping movement with the hand holding the dagger in the direction he thought the voice was coming from (which was, luckily for Bilbo, completely wrong.) "I know you enjoy your word-games and believe they can solve anything!" He was silent for a moment. Then he added almost as if speaking to himself: "But they can't."

There were a few moments of silence, and then Thorin shouted again: "So, just to avoid getting into any word games, Mr Baggins, I don't want to see you or to hear you. You don't belong here anymore; you have shown yourself to be an enemy of mine, and you are here either as a spy or as thief."

"Thief… Thief…" repeated the echo while Thorin turned into another row of columns and started searching it, swinging his right arm – that still held the dagger – furiously around him or thrusting it into suspicious-looking shadows. "And as a spy or a thief you will be treated," he added.

"Please, Thorin!" Bilbo said in a small voice. The dwarf king turned around, but once again couldn't tell where the voice was coming from. Bilbo continued:

"If I came here as a spy or a thief, why would I attempt to speak with you? I never wanted to be your enemy. I was just trying to prevent everyone from dying, including you."

When there was no answer he moved slowly to a place from which he could see Thorin. The dwarf-king was standing still now, his face hard to read, and Bilbo felt a little bit more courageous – courageous enough to say:

"I really am sorry I took the Arkenstone. Please believe that I never would have done it hadn't I believed it would come back to you in the end!"

At the mention of the Arkenstone Thorin moved almost violently, like a wounded animal. He grabbed a torch from a sconce on the wall and started marching along the gallery again. At one point he stopped, brought the torch closer to the floor and said triumphantly:

"Water! So you entered the mountain through the stream – of course, how else?"

Bilbo shivered. Feeling too secure in his invisibility, he had forgotten that water was still dripping off his wet clothes. Hoping the trail wasn't clear enough to follow, he moved to a different part of the gallery again. He noticed a broken column whose lower part was still standing upright, a little taller than his waist, and he quickly climbed up on it as quietly as he could. He was aware that he had made some noise, because Thorin stopped to listen, but apparently still couldn't tell where the sound was coming from. As soon as he was satisfied that Thorin still didn't know where he was, the hobbit plucked up enough courage to speak about the Arkenstone again.

"What I meant to say," he called out, "was that you don't have to forgive me – I know you will never forgive me – but you can still have the Arkenstone back, and avoid war!"

"War… War…" the echo repeated. Thorin was searching the opposite end of the gallery now, and all Bilbo could see was the light of the torch moving around. Still, when the dwarf spoke Bilbo could hear him clearly.

"You really don't understand about kings and kingdoms, Mr Baggins. It isn't just a matter of owning the Arkenstone. A stone found deep inside the mountain, where Mahal himself had placed it before my people woke from their sleep, is a sign of kingship. A stone won honourably from an enemy is still a sign of kingship. A stone obtained by bargaining, as you would bargain for vegetables at the market in your Shire, isn't!"

When he started talking he had sounded almost calm and it seemed for a moment that he genuinely wanted to explain his views. The last sentence was, however, full of undisguised spite, and Bilbo was silent for a while. Then he spoke again:

"No, you're right. You're right. I know nothing about kings. Before I met you, I had only read about kings in books. But one of the things my books have taught me was that a true king should be benevolent and gracious."

As he was saying this Bilbo saw that Thorin was walking towards him again with his torch and dagger, but feeling safe enough on the broken column, he still went on: "A true king would have welcomed the slayer of the dragon as a hero, and would have rewarded him and helped rebuild his town."

The dwarf king stopped when he heard this, and lowered his head. For the first time it seemed to Bilbo that his words had made an effect, so he went on with a little more courage.

"Speaking of books, maybe that is, um, a way I could explain why I did what I did?" Bilbo fought for words, because what he wanted to say seemed so much clearer in his head than on his tongue. "Let us say I saw our adventure as a book when, in fact, you and I were in two different books all along, only some chapters happened to be the same and that was what fooled me." It seemed to him that his words were a hopeless mess, but Thorin was listening – or at least standing still and quiet – so Bilbo went on as well as he could. "You see, my book had to end with everyone alive and safe, with you and your people finally in your home, and with me returning to mine, and the men of Lake Town rebuilding theirs. That was what I thought should happen, and tried to help bring about. But you – you belong to a completely different book, one that began long, long ago in times I know nothing about. Not all of it is written in a language I can read, and I can't even imagine how it is meant to end. So I wish now that I hadn't interfered."

It looked for a while as if the dwarf king was pondering these words. But then Thorin raised his head again and looked very intently at the column Bilbo was standing on, lifting the torch higher. Then he looked –or so it seemed – straight at Bilbo's face, the torch painting his face with a dangerous red light.

Bilbo glanced over his shoulder and understood, with a sudden feeling of terror. In the light of the torch a shadow was falling behind the column—a shadow unmistakably shaped like a column with a hobbit on top of it. He had forgotten what he had learned while escaping the goblin tunnels: that he still cast a shadow while invisible! Of course, he could still jump off it and try to escape into the unlit part of the gallery where he cast no shadow, but suddenly he felt sad and tired and had no desire to run away. He took the ring off his finger.

"Yes, you have found me," he said and hopped off the column with apparent ease, although his knees felt so weak they almost gave way. "And I have already said everything I wanted to say, and nothing good has obviously come out of it. No, I'm not running away, Thorin," he said bravely although he visibly shrank as Thorin stepped closer to him. "I don't want to do that because we were friends not so long ago, and if I run away now and never see you again I will probably always wonder if you really would have killed me had you caught me. So that's – that's," he stammered, because Thorin was now right in front of him. Bilbo looked him in the eyes and continued: "So that's why I'm staying here. To find out."

The dwarf slowly lifted up his dagger and placed it so that the point just slightly touched Bilbo's neck (as Bilbo was wearing his mithril coat and his neck was his most vulnerable point). Bilbo froze, not daring to breathe or swallow. Thorin's hand was shaking and, as Bilbo could see now, his face looked pale and thin, his eyes red. They stood like that for a few moments (although to Bilbo it seemed like ages), and then Thorin withdrew the hand holding the dagger, turned away from Bilbo and said:

"Oh, just go away."

Bilbo didn't move, partly because he was still trembling with fear and needed to catch his breath, and partly because he felt, now that he had seen the despair Thorin was in, that he ought to do something. But Thorin repeated in a louder and angrier voice:

"Go away! No, I will not kill you. I have never killed anyone outside of battle, and I too remember that you were until recently my friend. I don't care if you leave my palace or stay in it – I don't see what further harm you can do now. Just stop pestering me."

"Who are you talking to, Master Thorin?" Balin's worried voice could be heard from the stairway.

"Don't worry, Balin, I'm not insane yet. Our esteemed invisible burglar has paid us a visit. Get him out of my way, will you?"

But Bilbo was already hurrying down the stairs to meet the old dwarf. Nothing good came out of his talk with Thorin, but at least he was grudgingly allowed to stay in the palace under the mountain, so he was eager to greet the other dwarves.

Balin welcomed him with open arms and smiling eyes.

"It's good to see you again, Master Baggins! Why, you are wet! But of course, you came in through the stream. We should place an iron grate over that opening, because we wouldn't want anyone else coming in that way. But you must come and dry yourself by the fire. Hey, everyone!" he cried out, as he led Bilbo down the stairs holding an arm around his shoulder. "Look who is with us again!"

The eight dwarves in the hall looked up from their work, and when they saw Bilbo their faces brightened and they got up, all as one, and gathered around him, with many a "Welcome back!" and "So good to see you again!", which made it hard for Bilbo to fight back tears. They urged him to sit by the fire to dry his clothes and, of course, he had to explain once again how he got wet in the first place, or how he entered the mountain, which was a different question with the same answer.

"It was on your watch, I'm afraid," he said grinning apologetically at Kili, Nori and Dori. "You couldn't see me, of course, but I think you heard me at one point."

The three patted him on the shoulder and assured him that they weren't angry at him (although Balin and a few of the others immediately began a lively discussion on how best to construct a grate to cover the opening with the material available). Bofur found a blanket somewhere and Bilbo wrapped himself in it gratefully, and Bombur brought him a tankard of mulled wine sweetened with the last honey the dwarves had among their provisions. But after their warm welcome and Bilbo's sincere thanks, the conversation faded a little because neither Bilbo nor his friends were very keen to mention Thorin, or the Arkenstone, or the armies gathering outside the mountain. The sadness Bilbo saw before fell on all of them again.

One by one the dwarves returned to their work, only Kili and Ori remained to entertain Bilbo with funny stories about things that happened since he left. The stories might not have necessarily been true, but as the hobbit understood very well, the point of funny stories is not whether they are true or not. Kili was just telling him how they had found a shield with an engraved golden dragon in the treasury and how Fili had screamed like a little girl because he thought the dragon was going to come alive and burn his beard, when Fili's voice said behind them:

"Stop lying, Kili. Bilbo! I don't know how you got here, but it's good to see you."

"F-Fili?" Kili said, looking at him with surprise. "You have left your post?"

"Yes, messengers from Dain have come," said Fili, and then looked up to the gallery and called out to Thorin.

Thorin's footsteps were heard coming down the stairway, and Bilbo noticed some tension among the dwarves. He slipped the ring on his finger once again, not wishing to make Thorin even angrier.

Thorin walked past them, greeting the dwarves with a nod, and went towards the gate with Fili. There was silence in Thror's chamber until he returned – they could hear his voice, exchanging brisk words with Dain's dwarves, but they couldn't hear what he was saying. After a few minutes he returned, and the dwarves all stood up in complete silence – nobody was even breathing – to hear what he had to say.

"Dain's army is in position. So is the enemy. Be ready. We will respond to an attack immediately, but we won't make the first move."

"We are ready," Balin said and the others gravely nodded.

"Good," Thorin said and moved as if he was going to climb the stairs again, but then he stopped and said:

"Dain's messengers brought us some supplies. They are by the gate. Bombur, prepare a good meal. You deserve it, all of you." He turned as if he was going to leave once again, but Kili stopped him:

"Aren't you going to stay here and share the meal with us?"

"Yes, do, Thorin", said Balin. "Why brood up there all by yourself? Join us, it will do you good!"

There was a moment of silence. Bilbo tried to stand on the tip of his toes to catch a glimpse of Thorin's face from where he was standing, but he couldn't because all the dwarves were standing around their king.

"Do you think I'm unwell, Balin? That I'm losing my mind? That all this is wrong?" he could hear Thorin say in a hushed voice. "What about the rest of you?" His voice was raised a little bit now, but it sounded more urgent than angry.

"I have complete faith in you, my King," said Balin firmly. "I don't question your judgement and I would follow you until my last moment."

There was a strong, determined chorus of "So would I! And I!" from the dwarves standing all around him.

Thorin was silent for a moment, then Bilbo could hear his voice again, and it sounded a little shaken. "I have never questioned your loyalty, not any single one of you. But that's not what I was asking. Balin, tell me this." He paused again, as if fighting an unseen force that was stopping him from speaking. "You remember my grandfather well. You saw, just as I did, the signs of the illness that came upon him during the last days of our kingdom."

There was dead silence in Thror's Chamber, and then Thorin said in a voice that was almost a whisper:

"It isn't easy to read the signs on oneself. Am I ill as he was, Balin?"

Silence again, and then Balin stepped towards his his king, placed his hands on his shoulders and said firmly: "No. No, you are not, my dear boy."

Bilbo felt a lump in his throat, and he was not the only one; he noticed one or two dwarves discreetly wiping tears from the corners of their eyes.

Balin spoke again: "You are not quite yourself though, Thorin. May I offer you my advice?"

Thorin must have silently nodded, because Balin went on:

"It would do you good to leave the palace for a moment. It may be your home – our home – but it is still also the dragon's lair. Move away from the gold, go where you can see the sky and the valley. We have cleared and mended the stairway to the southern watchtower. Shall I take you there? You will be informed the moment there is any news from the Gate."

"I'll heed your advice, Balin," Thorin said, his voice sounding defeated and tired. Taking a torch in his hand, Balin lead him towards another stairway that led from the Chamber, similar to the one Bilbo had used to climb to the gallery. They soon turned from the staircase into a tunnel twisting and turning inside the mountain, and Balin's torch was the only light; then a small gleam of natural light became visible in front of them, and the air in the tunnel became somewhat fresher. The tunnel ended in a small, square-shaped room with barrel vaults, carved out of the living rock, with very narrow arched windows that would, to anyone looking from the outside (if that was possible, and it wasn't: the outer wall was a very steep cliff) merely seem like cracks in the rock.

Balin placed the torch he had been carrying into one of the wrought-iron sconces on the wall and approached one of the windows with Thorin. As the daylight fell on the dwarf king's face, it revealed his unhealthy pallor.

"Shall I leave you alone?" Balin asked.

"No, don't. Stay with me," Thorin said quietly.

The view from the window wasn't a comforting sight. The sky was overcast and grey, bathing the scorched land below in a cold light, which was reflected menacingly off the armour and weapons of the three armies positioned around the mountain. The River Running stretched down to the south like a black snake, and a cloud of black smoke could be seen in the distance, rising from the ground: the remains of Lake Town. A cold wind was blowing in through the windows. It was hard to believe that flowers or green hills still existed anywhere in the world. Thorin was looking out into the distance, the wind sweeping back his dark locks, his expression difficult to read. Balin was not looking outside; he was watching Thorin with quiet concern.

Suddenly rumbling was heard from the North – the one side they couldn't see from the watchtower, which was on a southern slope – and the sky grew darker.

"A storm is coming," Balin said quietly. Thorin was still silent.

Then the flapping of winds was heard outside, and a big black bird flew past with some difficulty, fighting the strong wind.

"Roäc!" Thorin cried out, his voice suddenly sounding warmer and more alive than it had for days. He reached out of the window with his arm, and the old raven landed on his forearm, taking care that his claws sink into the thick fur lining of the king's coat sleeve without touching his skin. Thorin carefully took him inside – the narrow window was just wide enough for the large bird – and the raven spoke:

"Greetings, Thorin, son of Thrain and Balin, son of Fundin! I flew to the Gate, and you guards told me I would find you here. I have grave tidings! The Goblins are coming from the North, led by Azog himself! The Wargs are with them, and the sky above them is black with bats!"

The sky was indeed getting even darker, and the wind grew stronger; the glittering armour of the three armies outside the Gate started to move and stir.

"Your kinsmen have joined forces with the Elves and Men, my King. No messengers have been exchanged between them; they all acted as one, turning against the Goblins and the Wargs."

"Of course they have," Thorin said. "Of course." He was standing by the window, his forehead pressed against the cold stone wall next to the window. He took a few deep breaths, as if he were struggling to wake up from a feverish dream. Then he looked at Balin, his face steady and resolute. "And we will help them."

Balin beamed at him. "Of course we will, my King."

"Thank you for bringing these tidings, Roäc, son of Carc!" Thorin said to the raven. "I am grateful for your loyalty to my family."

"I'm glad I lived long enough to see your return, King Under The Mountain!" the old raven said and lowered his balding head in a courteous bow, then rubbed his beak affectionately against Thorin's sleeve before flying out into the storm again.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, the other dwarves were sharing a meal in Thror's Chamber. Bilbo had insisted on helping them carry the provisions they had received from Dain's messengers from the Gate, and they had accepted his help although every single member of their company could carry at least twice as much as he could. He also helped Bombur prepare the meal, although not much preparation was involved because the dwarves knew they could be called to battle any moment – but he helped Bombur slice the bread and bacon and divide the dried fruit into equal portions. There was not much talking while they were eating, and none of the jokes he had grown accustomed to with the dwarves. Each of the dwarves sat with their weapons and armour close at hand. After the meal the dwarves took their musical instruments – Kili used one of the golden harps from the dragon's hoard – and they sang a song that reminded Bilbo of the song they sang at the unexpected party at Bag End, but it was even more ancient and described events from a past so distant that, for Bilbo, listening to it felt like standing on the edge of a chasm the depth of which he wasn't able to comprehend. "If I get out of this alive," he thought, "and if they survive it too, I must ask them to write down the words for me." But he knew that the words alone, withou his friends' voices, wouldn't be able to tell the whole story.

_The song ended with the words:_

_The shadow lies upon his tomb_

_In Moria, in Khazad-dum._

_But still the sunken stars appear_

_In dark and windless Mirrormere;_

_There lies his crown in water deep,_

_Till Durin wakes again from sleep._

There was deep silence after the song, but it seemed to Bilbo that the dwarves were sharing some unspoken words, and he felt lonelier than ever. To shake away these thoughts, he volunteered to take some food to the three dwarves guarding the Gate. But as soon as he started walking down the passage he saw Fili walking quickly towards him. The young dwarf was so distraught he nearly bumped into Bilbo; when the hobbit explained that he was bringing food for the guards, he said:

"There is no time! It has started."

With a heavy feeling, Bilbo followed Fili back into the Chamber. All the dwarves looked at Fili without a word.

"Something is happening," he said, slightly out of breath.

"Are we under attack?" they asked him.

"Not exactly. We don't really understand, but Thorin must be informed at once."

"I'm here," Thorin's voice said. He and Balin were just coming down the stairs that led from the tunnel. Bilbo quickly made himself invisible again.

Thorin walked into the Chamber and the dwarves gathered around him; before Fili could say anything Thorin told him to call the other two guards from the Gate, and he would not speak until Dwalin and Gloin arrived. Then he said:

"I've had news from Roäc. Goblins and Wargs have come from the North, and Dain Ironfoot is fighting them, together with Bard of Dale and Thranduil of Mirkwood. All that has happened in the past few days is insignificant now. We must go to battle and help our kinsmen and their allies."

The dwarves listened to the news in grave silence. Bilbo was horrified at the news that Azog and his Orcs had found them, but at the same time he felt immense relief. There was going to be a battle, but at least Dwarves, Men and Elves were not going to spill each other's blood. Watching the dwarves, he suspected they felt exactly the same: he saw Fili squeeze Kili's hand for a brief moment and Dori place his hands on Ori and Nori's shoulders, as if they were silently congratulating each other on this outcome. Thorin seemed like his old self again, walking around, inspecting the dwarves' armour and weapons and giving them instructions.

The plan was that they should all go to the Gate and watch the battle, waiting for the moment their charging out would have the strongest impact on the enemy. When all the dwarves were fully armed, they stood in a circle and drew out their swords. Up until then Bilbo had never heard them speaking anything other than the Common Speech, but now Thorin said something in Khuzdul, the secret language of the dwarves, and the other dwarves answered, all as one, with a sentence in the same language. Bilbo guessed it was some sort of pledge; after it, they continued discussing practical matters (such as whether the passages that they had cleared should be sealed, and if so, what should be used to seal them).

"Where is our burglar?" Thorin suddenly asked. Bilbo had been longing to show himself again anyway; the only reason he hadn't done so was that the dwarves' conversation had seemed so private, he felt it would be rude to interrupt it. He slipped the Ring off his finger once again.

"I'm here!" he said and walked up to Thorin.

"Bilbo!" Thorin said, his voice considerably warmer than before. "We must find a safe place for you to wait until the end of the battle."

"I don't want to wait in a safe place!" Bilbo said. "I want to join you." He hadn't even realised that was what he wanted to do until the words came out of his mouth, but once they did, he didn't feel a shred of doubt.

"This battle will be like nothing you have ever witnessed, Bilbo," Thorin said grimly. "We have encountered gangs of Orcs and packs of Wargs on our journey, and it was bad enough. You have no idea what it is like to fight with whole hosts of them."

"True. But some members of your company have never experienced that either!" Bilbo said, looking around. The dwarves had gathered around them, listening. Bilbo tried to meet the eyes of Ori, Fili and Kili, certain that they, at least, had never been in a battle such as this one. But Fili and Kili pointedly looked away to show that they were staying out of the argument, and Ori shook his head and quietly said: "That's not the same, Bilbo. This is our battle."

Thorin nodded, silently confirming Ori's words.

"Surely it's my battle too, after everything I have faced with you as part of your company?" Bilbo said. Being rejected stung, but only made his decision firmer. He drew out Sting – which already showed faint traces of an ominous bluish glow – and placed it before Thorin's feet. There was a proper, ceremonial way to do this and Bilbo had read about it in books many times, but he couldn't remember the right words. Still he got down on one knee and spoke with firm resolution:

"Please, King Under The Mountain, accept my service and my sword!"

But Thorin shook his head. Seeing the disappointment in Bilbo's eyes, he said in an unusually soft voice:

"Bilbo, I'm not refusing you because I doubt either your courage or the power of your sword. After all that has happened, there is no warrior alive whose offer of service I would see as a greater honour. But it is my company's duty, and especially mine, to ensure that you survive this battle and reach your home in safety. We dwarves have a saying: Carve your enemies' names into granite so that they may last as long as the mountains; but carve the names of your friends into diamonds, so that they are preserved until the end of the world. I have failed in this; I have, in my anger, forgotten that you have done much more for us than your contract demanded. You have saved our lives, rescued us from prison, slain the dragon…"

Bilbo was growing redder and redder in the face. It felt so strange, listening to these words of praise from the person who had so recently called him a descendant of rats, a coward, a spy and a thief. But the last words were just too much.

"I haven't slain the dragon!" he protested.

"You have," Thorin said. "Your word games brought about his death just as much as the arrow of Bard of Dale did."

"But I am as much in your debt as you are in mine!" Bilbo said. "I just can't stay here and hide in a tunnel knowing that all of you are out there fighting Orcs. No." He felt at a loss for words, but that didn't make his decision any less firm. It was as if the tables had turned: Thorin was now the one using clever words, and it was Bilbo's turn to stubbornly ignore them. "Sorry. Impossible!"

"Do you remember what you said earlier about you and me belonging to two different books?" Thorin said. "There is truth in that. For me and my dwarves, the book ends at Erebor. We had always known it would. The only thing that remains to be seen is whether the ending is a happy or a sad one. But your book should end with you returning to the Shire."

Bilbo wasn't happy about his own words being used against him. He said: "Well, speaking of the Shire… What if we were in the Shire now, and it was attacked by Orcs? Surely you wouldn't let me go into battle alone and stay hidden in my wine cellar? You would help me fight them!"

"No, I wouldn't!" Thorin said, folding his arms across his chest and looking Bilbo straight in the eyes.

"Yes, you would!" Bilbo said, looking back at him defiantly. "You can't fool me. Your words are much worse than your deeds. I'm not withdrawing my offer of service."

"Oh, all right then!" Thorin said with an exasperated sigh, but there was the faint trace of a smile on his lips. "Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, I accept you as one of my soldiers." He turned to Dwalin and said: "Find a helmet, a pair of gauntlets and a pair of iron boots for him!"

"Wait… Iron boots?" Bilbo said. "I have never worn shoes or boots of any kind, let alone iron ones!"

"You'll have to do so now, laddie," Balin said. "Your feet may be immune to sharp rocks, but an Orc blade could easily cut them off!"

"I'll have to do without my feet then! Boots are out of the question, I wouldn't be able to walk in them," Bilbo said. He was quite enjoying being stubborn now. Dwalin brought him a helmet and a pair of gauntlets small enough, and patted him on the shoulder.

"You're very brave," he said. "I'm honoured you'll be taking part in our fight."

Thorin gave an order to the dwarves in Khuzdul, and they all nodded. Bilbo couldn't understand it, but he noticed that all glanced at him while Thorin spoke, and suspected that the order was to protect him during the battle.

Then Thorin gave the command: "To the Gate!" The dwarves formed a column, with Bilbo in the middle, and they left Thror's Chamber and marched towards the Gate. In the dark passage, Sting's blue glow was noticeably growing stronger and stronger.

**THE END**


End file.
